


Splinters

by Mystery_Name



Series: I'm Addicted to You [2]
Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon 2012)
Genre: Angst, Degradation, Evil!Peter Parker, Groping, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Rough Sex, Semi-Hate Sex, Shifting Power Dynamics, Smut, Touching, Toxic Relationships, Unsafe Sex, Wolf Spider - Freeform, evil CEO, evil!Harry Osborn, evil!Spider-Man, neither of them are in the right here, past trauma, repressed character insisting he's not gay, slight humiliation, some mind play, unwanted tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 22:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Name/pseuds/Mystery_Name
Summary: Each movement was slow and deliberate, not soft or gentle, but not rough yet. There was intention behind it, cold-cut and determined. Harry swallowed as Wolf settled on top of him, coming in so close they were almost chest to chest.“Are you sure I was the lonely one?” he whispered.<><><><><><><><><><>Harry Osborn returns to Oscorp after a date with Liz Allen and Wolf Spider has something to say about it.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Harry Osborn/Wolf Spider, Peter Parker/Harry Osborn, Wolf Spider/Harry Osborn
Series: I'm Addicted to You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203584
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Splinters

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back with another Wolfsborn! The second installment in this little series and my third square for the USM Bingo! Speaking of:
> 
> USM Bingo I5 – Vague Misery
> 
> Keep in mind the tags and the rating. Once again, this is an exploration of a toxic relationship, so do not model your intimate, emotional, or physical relationship to this in any way. Pretty sure that goes without saying, but I felt the compulsive need to say it anyway.

Wolf Spider is sitting in his chair.

It's late. The sun had long since gone down, leaving the city to fend for itself in artificial fluorescent and neon-signs. The buildings and flashing jumbotrons outside are the only light source in the room, and Harry doesn't even see the other man until the lamp on his desk clicks on and sends a pale glow across the dark wood.

He paused in the door, halfway through unbuttoning his jacket, and scowled when he recognized those spindly spider-legs that were falling on either side of his office chair, their tips scratching thin white lines into the expensive leather in an almost boredly manner.

"What are you doing in here?"

His office was off limits to everyone. Only him and his secretary, and even then, it was mostly just him. Wolf wasn't allowed to step foot in here and Harry had said as much when they were first establishing the do's and don'ts of this arrangement. If he could call it that. It's not like Wolf ever respected the rules Harry laid out, so he should've expected something like this, but it still makes anger flare in his chest, especially as Wolf leaned back and propped his boots on the desk, his hands behind his head.

"Needed to rest my legs," is his answer. Wolf wiggled in the seat a little, "For a multi-millionaire you sure can't afford a comfortable chair."

Harry stormed up to said chair, practically looming as the other man lifted his chin to meet his eyes, "Get. Out."

Instead of scrambling out like Harry wanted, Wolf hummed and tipped his head up farther to look at the ceiling, thinking about it. The answer wasn't going to be one that Harry wanted, so he didn't wait for Wolf to pretend to mull it over, he shoved the man's feet off his desk and they _thunked_ back on the ground.

Wolf Spider held up his hands, rolling his head in a way that meant he was rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a bunch."

Harry's face flushed and Wolf grinned, even with the mask on it was obvious. He wasn't a woman and he _didn't_ wear panties. Harry's hands tightened into fists, going white-knuckled and hard. He knew Wolf was just trying to yank his chain and get a reaction out of him, and lashing out would do just that. He took a deep, controlled breath, ignoring the way he reddened from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his neck.

However he tried to control himself, Wolf still laughed, as if Harry had done just what he wanted him too, and slid out of the chair, replacing it with the corner of the desk. He kicked his legs over the edge innocently, leaning back on one arm with the other in his lap.

"Not the desk either," Harry said, jerking the chair towards himself.

"How was your date?" Wolf asked instead and Harry froze halfway on the seat, and then carefully sat down. He didn't answer right away, and rolled himself up to the desk to boot up his computer.

He should've known Wolf was here for a reason. Despite his normal disregard of Harry's rules, he wouldn't be lurking in wait for what was probably hours, until Harry got home without an objective in mind. He wasn't one to sit around and wait for him, he was always leaving the tower and coming and going as he pleased – as much as it irked Harry.

Wolf waited, frozen like a stature, but Harry let him stew in the building silence as the computer turned on. He leaned forward to read an email when something thin and sharp crept over his shoulder, catching the fabric of his jacket with tiny little _zips_. Harry gave the barb a sideways glance and scowled at Wolf.

"How was your date?" Wolf repeated, red mask lenses shining particularly bright in the computer light.

Harry brushed the bard off his shoulder as if it were a piece of lint, "It was fine."

When he didn't offer anything else, Wolf shoved Harry's computer right off the desk and it shattered on the ground. Before Harry had time to react, Wolf positioned himself so he was sitting directly in front of him with his foot planted on his chest, pinning him to the back of the chair. His demeanor was still easy and languid, like he had all the time in the world, but his barbs were arched deliberately over his head now, zeroing in on Harry.

Harry scoffed. They would never actually hurt him; it was something Wolf did when he wanted to look bigger. To intimidate. Like a spooked bird ruffling its feathers.

He didn't try getting up or shoving Wolf's foot off. He relaxed, grinning at him.

"It was _great_ ," he corrected, and his eyes glint, smile turning a tad sharper, "Why so curious?" he chuckled when Wolf didn't answer and fixed the cuff of his shirt as if the foot on his chest wasn't there at all. "Oh, what's the matter now? Cat got your tongue." Still no answer. Harry refrained rolling his eyes, "If you still want to rest your legs, why don't you be a good boy and take a seat right over here," he gestured to the floor at his feet, "You can keep me company as I work. I would hate for you to feel _lonely_."

That had Wolf tilting his head.

With the tip of his toe he pushed against Harry's chest, easing the chair away from the desk inch by inch, until it was far enough that he could slide into Harry's lap. Each movement was slow and deliberate, not soft or gentle, but not rough yet. There was intention behind it, cold-cut and determined. Harry swallowed as Wolf settled on top of him, coming in so close they were almost chest to chest.

"Are you sure I was the lonely one?" he whispered, and Harry's fingers gripped the chairs armrest. "Who was it tonight? Betty Brant? Hollister? That brunette I don't remember. Date must've been awful if you're home already."

"Liz Allan," Harry said, "And the date was perfect. We both had a great time."

"A great time, huh?" Wolf snorted, "Really? You know, you've been getting kind of buddy-buddy with this Liz Allen lately. What's this? The third date? The fourth? Getting kind of comfortable, aren't you Harry." He slid his hand up Harry's shirt, slipping it into the lapel of his jacket.

It was Harry's turn to snort, "What's wrong, Wolfie? Are you," he squinted, "Are you actually jealous right now?" When Wolf didn't respond once again, his grin turned sharp and delightful, "It's eating you up inside, isn't it? Don't like that I'm spending so much time with Liz," he cast a glance at Wolf's wondering hand, "Afraid that she's pleasing me more than you ever could?"

Instead of snarling, or grabbing Harry's shirt, as expected, Wolf softly leaned in, pressing their bodies more firmly together as he whispered in his ear, "That's the thing though, she isn't pleasing you."

Harry's grin faltered, just for a second, but it was all Wolf needed to take it and go. "You two have been going out a lot more. She's a grown woman, healthy sex drive, so I can imagine she's tried to make a move on you. She'll have to since you won't be the one making the move, right," he laughed, low and amused, the sound a rumble in his chest, "Poor Harry, still can't touch a woman. You know, if you're going to keep up this heterosexual charade, you're going to have to have sex with her."

"I know that," Harry snapped, now shoving Wolf's hands out of his jacket, "And it's not a charade."

Wolf Spider bluntly leaned back, looking down at Harry so he could get the full brunt of his quirking eyebrows. He still had that damn mask off and Harry hated that he didn't need to see his face to know it was full of disbelief. Wolf looked down at himself, perched in Harry's lap, and then back at him.

"Come on, Har, not even you can be this delusional."

Harry bared his teeth and with more aggression than he cared to check he reached around, grabbing Wolf by the ass and pushed him back on top of him. "Don't get any ideas," he growled, "I don't like you. I'm not attracted to you. You're just someone to satisfy my needs when I have no other option. You're only here because of our high school days. I don't need you, Wolf. You could never satisfy me like Betty could."

It was Wolf's turn to get hostile, but he said, sickeningly sweet, "I thought her name was Liz."

Harry faltered, "That's – that's what I said."

His fumble was not let go and Wolf laughed, loud and derisively, "You can't even get her name right," he crowed, and Harry told him to shut up. It took a few minutes for him to settle down, but when he did, he tilted his head again, humming, "She tried tonight, didn't she? Attempted to get into Mr. Straight-Man's pants."

Harry tried to keep eye-contact, but those blasted red lenses were impossible and Wolf laughed again when Harry looked away.

"She did, didn't she? When? Did she drop hints about coming over after dinner? Was it in the limo? Did she scoot close to you Harry," he pressed himself into Harry to emphasize, and Harry hates how warm his body is. How intoxicating it is to have it pressed against him. "Did she move against you like this? Can she even get you hard?"

"She – she can-" Harry sputtered.

"Hmm, maybe," Wolf hummed, "But is she the one you're thinking about when she does it? Are you seeing her? Or" his hand slid down between their bodies and palmed Harry's groin. Harry jolted, biting his tongue to stop the moan from escaping his mouth, "Are you thinking of someone else? Does she get you hard like _this_ , Harry?" he rolled his hand up and down, adding just enough pressure to force a noise from Harry. Wolf laughed, feeling him growing hard under his touch. "You must be really pent up, then. Look how hard you are just from a little frottage."

Harry despised how smug he sounded. Hated the way he bucked up into that delicious touch. He stared up at Wolf's stupid mask and his anger boiled over and he wrenched it off. The face below looked startled for a half second as Harry tossed the mask to the side, out of sight and out of mind, but he quickly realized he made a mistake when Wolf leaned down, those black and red eyes gleaming with something dark, and softly kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Well does she?" he asked again, kissing the words into his skin. The rolling of his hips got more insistent, and the hand cupping Harry through his pants _squeezed_. Not enough to be painful, but _fuck_ Harry almost wished it were. "Does she make you feel like this?

He should push him away. Should shove Wolf off and leave – he didn't have anything to prove. He wasn't going to play into his hands either. But it felt so good, and Wolf was right about him being pent up. Apart from Wolf leaving every night and Harry focusing on the company, they haven't let off steam in a while.

Regrettably, Wolf was also right about Liz. She _had_ made a move tonight. She'd dropped more than enough hints during dinner and on the ride back, and for a minute, sitting in the back of the limo with her pressed up against him, he was tempted to bring her up to the penthouse. He'd let his hands roam up her thighs, to her breasts, to the curve of her neck where her long hair tickled his hands. He'd let her hands roam in kind, picking at his clothes, running through his hair, traveling southward. He tried so hard to get into it, but there was something wrong. The feminine pitch of her voice, the soft curves of her body, her breasts, her thighs – these were all things he was supposed to find attractive. When she ran her manicured hands down his chest, dipping into his shirt the same way Wolf did, he should've relished every minute.

But he couldn't. There was something about it that made him want to scoot away. The burning need was there, but it was so horribly misplaced.

But Harry knew, for certain, that he couldn't bring Liz back to the penthouse when he almost called her "Peter" in the back of that limo.

He didn't mean to. He'd closed his eyes, forcing his mind to focus on the pleasurable parts and not so much on the person he was touching. She climbed into his lap, her skirt hiked up her thighs as she kissed along his neck. Her hair was brown and barely in his line of sight, but in the shadow of the limo, the color looked darker and familiar and only barely stopped himself from sighing Peter's name.

After that, he put an end to their roaming hands, buttoned his shirt, smoothed his hair, and told the driver to head to Liz's address to drop her off. Liz was disappointed, he could tell in the way she got off his lap and briskly adjusted her bra-strap. She didn't look at him for the duration of the ride. He knew he would need to make it up to her, somehow, and as much as it chafed him, Wolf was right. Harry was going to need to have sex with Liz – eventually.

Meanwhile, Wolf's hands slowed their groping into light petting that was almost as torturous. As his hand worked, the other snuck around Harry's neck, threading into his hair, and wrenched his head to the side so his throat was bare and exposed. He traced his lips from Harry's mouth, down his chin, mouthing at the skin as he went, before sucking at the sweet spot just under his jaw. Harry's face flushed and he reflexively bared his neck for better access. His hands yearned to clutch onto Wolf, his hips or his thighs, but he kept them curled around the armrest of the chair, panting.

"Wolf-" he said, a tad breathless, and said man hummed, sucking and nibbling hard on the juncture between Harry's neck and shoulder, peeling his shirt and suit jacket out of the way so it was halfway down his shoulder. Harry stifled a moan and bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut.

"She can't make you feel like this," Wolf was murmuring, dragging his lips back up to Harry's ear so he could feel every word tickle his lobe. "Only I can. This is all me, Harry. This," his groped Harry's dick, causing him to buck upward, "is because of me. You can play around all you like, but you can't fool me, I know what you like. I know who you _are_. I'm the _only_ one who can satisfy your "needs.""

His hand finally pulled away from his groin and Harry didn't know whether to cry or be relieved. He didn't have time to decide as Wolf readjusted himself, braced his hands on Harry's shoulder, and with a wicked smile, ground his hips deliciously into Harry's.

This time, Harry's hands flew up and gripped Wolf's hips as they rolled slow and sensuous, taking all the time in the world so Harry feels every torturous second.

He bit back another moan and Wolf's hand curled around his jaw, forcing his head up so he's looking into those dark, hellish eyes. "I want to hear you," Wolf growled, and pressed his lips to Harry's in a deep, filthy kiss that left them both breathless.

And he meant what he said. He let go of Harry's jaw and bit at his lower lip as he unbuttoned his shirt, just enough to slip his fingers inside and stroke up and down his chest, intentionally running his hands over Harry's nipples and making his face flush a brighter red. Every sound Harry made was like gasoline to a fire.

When Harry's lips were a puffed red, Wolf drifted down to nip at his collarbone. Harry's hands moved from Wolf's hips, towards his ass, and he bucked up into him, momentarily losing himself in the sensation. Wolf laughed, positively delighted, and Harry hissed "Shut up."

His finger traced Harry's lips with a smirk, "Make me, _Osborn_."

Harry's eyes flashed.

He surged upward, slamming Wolf back into the desk. Wolf made a noise from the impact, but it wasn't necessarily surprised, or even hurt. It took a lot to hurt him. He adjusted himself so he was laying back on the desk, legs falling open so Harry can fit himself between them. This position was uncomfortable for Wolf, his spider legs made his back arc awkwardly and it was a taxing position to hold for a long period of time.

Harry didn't care. He wanted him to be uncomfortable. Wanted to see him wince and grimace and show some kind of emotion that wasn't a shit-eating grin or an indifferent raise of his eyebrows. But Wolf was still smiling, ecstatic about the turn of events, almost triumphant – it pissed Harry off.

Maybe he should walk away. Just leaving Wolf laying on the desk, legs braced, back arched. Harry's dick was still hard, but that was nothing a cold shower couldn't fix, and if not, he could always just jerk it himself. He didn't need to be here; he didn't need to prove anything.

But there was a burning need inside him now. Wolf always had an ability to touch a part of Harry that drove him crazy. His hands, his mouth, his skin, his eyes, even those disgusting spider legs – it made Harry's fingers itch to feel, and the taste of his friend inside this monster was too addicting. The feeling of being inside him reeled Harry in like a drug – he needed more of it. Wolf was right when he said that Betty couldn't get him like this. None of them could. This was a raw, carnal thing reserved for Wolf Spider alone.

Harry pinned Wolf's wrists above his head, but the other man made a show of keeping them planted right where he wanted them to be – an obvious ploy to parade his unnatural strength - before _allowing_ Harry to move them. He was permitting it. Showing Harry that he didn't have power here, all of it belonged to Wolf.

 _An Osborn always holds the power in the room,_ his dad once told him. _It doesn't matter where you are or who you're with. You keep a hold of that control, because without it, they won't take you seriously. Command their respect. Squeeze it from them. As an Osborn, it belongs to you_.

Harry doubted he meant it in a setting like this, but the lesson still rang true for him. He was an Osborn, and an Osborn always held the power. It was just a matter of pulling it out, finding your enemies weakness, and exploiting it – he would have the power. The control. The _respect_.

As a kid, it was something he never had. He didn't control his life. Nobody respected him. He had to claw and fight and prove himself to be in the position that he was in now, wrestling the company from his father, and making it his own. This was _his_ house. Everything inside of it belonged to him, including _Peter Parker_.

Harry grinned, the sound of an internal buzzer in his ear, announcing that he'd landed the jackpot answer. He knew everything about the man beneath him, they've known each other for years after all. He still had power in this situation.

He leaned down, whispering into Wolf's ear, "Turn over, Peter."

And like that, Wolf froze, chest freezing as if Harry reached down his throat and stole the breath from his lungs. His eyes widened and like a switch had been flicked, his smirk crumbled. He stared up at Harry, strands of dark hair falling around his demonic round eyes. It reminded Harry so much of the Peter he once knew – the blue-eyed boy whose eyes lit up when he saw Harry in the halls of Midtown. Who's smile used to make Harry's heart dance in his chest. Who had become a beacon of light in Harry's otherwise dark childhood.

He'd been so sweet then. So kind, and sarcastic – but in a way that made Harry laugh. He was the reason Harry persevered for so long, and it was almost a mockery to see it shadowed in the stranger before him.

Everything that made Peter Parker was gone and it was obvious when he looked in Wolf Spider's eyes. But it was moments like this, with Wolf staring up at him like Harry was something he was only just now seeing, that he knows Peter Parker is buried somewhere far under the blood, grey skin, and lust.

His grip on Wolf's wrist tightened as something feral and possessive overtook him, and he captured Wolf in a kiss, biting hard at his lips when they separated. Wolf was still paralyzed, like a deer in headlights. Saying his name usually made him like this, shooting him back into the body of the person he'd once been. Just a glimpse of it made Harry hunger for more.

"Turn over, _Peter_ ," he repeated, voice rough and husky, and this time, Wolf numbly did so.

He bent over the desk, spider legs sprawled on either side, as he braced himself on his arms. That wouldn't do. Harry shoved him down so his chest was level with the desk and one hand clutched the bottom of the desk, the other the top, anchoring himself.

Harry ran his hands up and down Wolf's back, hard and demanding, physically commanding him to stay put. There was a rush that came with it. Wolf could get up so easily and brush past Harry without a problem – there was nothing physically keeping him down. But there he stayed, like warm putty in his hands, waiting on his word. It was a rush of ecstasy and Harry tipped his head back, drinking it in.

"Do you know what your problem is Peter," he said, running a hand up the length of Wolf's spine and curling around the base of one of his spider legs. Wolf shivered. Harry didn't wait for him to answer, he bent down, tangling his fingers in Wolf's hair similar to what he did earlier, and yanked it to the side so he could say directly into his ear, "You think I need you."

The noise that came out of Wolf could only be described as a wounded animal. Something Harry so rarely heard from the man. His fingers slipped inside Wolf's mouth, if only to soak it into his skin. Reflexively, Wolf sucked on his fingers, running his tongue over them and Harry repressed a shiver of his own.

"You say I need you," he carried on, "That no one else can give me what you can, but truthfully, _anyone_ can give me an ass to fuck," he gripped said ass hard, shoving Wolf into the desk, and the man moaned around Harry's fingers, "You're not special. You're not a missing piece in my life. You're nothing but a warm body for me to use whenever I need it."

He let go of the spider leg to reach under Wolf and unclip his utility belt, tossing it on the ground next to his discarded mask, and slipped his fingers into the hem of his pants, easing the tight Kevlar and spandex down. He then ran his hand over Wolf's skin, tracing the scar that poked around his hips and the other one that peaked under his shirt, before traveling down to the cleft of his ass.

"Are you so afraid that I'll cast you aside one day? Are you afraid that I'll stop touching you like this? Cause let's be honest, I'm the _only_ one who'd ever actually touch you. I'm not the one who needs you, you need _me_. Who else would fuck someone with _these_ ," he shook one of Wolf's spider legs, "growing out of their back? It's revolting."

Wolf choked on a whine, saliva dripping down his chin. Harry playfully thrust his fingers in and out of his mouth, wetting them from fingernail to knuckle. Even then, he pushed them in farther, searching for a gag reflex, but Wolf relaxed his throat to allow the intrusion.

"Is that why you confronted me about Liz?" Harry continued, his free hand mindlessly roaming and squeezing Wolf's ass, occasionally dipping between the cheeks, but never plunging deeper. "Afraid I'll enjoy touching her more than I enjoy touching you? As if I enjoy touching you at all. I keep you around because of Peter. Not Wolf Spider – I don't care about him. But you? I know you're in there," he leaned down, bending over Wolf's body so his mouth hovered over his neck, "and you're mine."

He popped his fingers out of Wolf's mouth and nudged his legs farther apart with his knees. Wolf eagerly accommodated. Harry slipped two fingers in immediately, with no warning, and Wolf hissed, gripping the ends of the desk so hard that they cracked under his powerful hands. Harry didn't let up; he was eager now too. The rush of control was making him lightheaded and he just wanted to sink into Peter. A part of him knew he should take it slow, to do this properly, and maybe a part of him would've if Wolf didn't start snapping his hips back in time to Harry's fingers.

"Who's the eager one now?"

Wolf made a sound, but managed, "Says the guy who was rutting against my ass a minute ago."

He hissed as Harry added a third finger.

 _He can take it,_ Harry told himself, _He's taken far worse. He can take this._

He scissored and stretched him a little longer before withdrawing his fingers. He kept one hand on Wolf's lower back so he didn't move and the other dropped to the bulge in his pants and quickly popped the button open and unzipped the fly. He didn't take his pants off all the way, just enough to get the deed done. He spit into his hand and slicked up his dick, giving it a few gratuitous tugs as Wolf started squirming impatiently.

Shushing him, Harry slid his hand up to Wolf's shoulder blades, really digging in with the heel of his hand, and Wolf fell still. Once again, Harry was struck with the notion that he should take this next part slow. Ease himself in.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Wolf snapped into the table, "An invitation? If you're not gonna stick it in, then that was the _gayest_ fingering I've ever experienced, Mr. Straight."

Harry's teeth clicked together and he shoved in, no preamble or warning, and Wolf grunted, grabbing the desk so tightly it was definitely splinters now. He didn't wait for Wolf to get accustomed to the sensation, he planted both hands on the man's hips, and thrust.

His thoughts drifted faintly to Liz. He supposed he could've had sex sooner, and if he had, he probably wouldn't be fucking Wolf right now, but he didn't let those thoughts soil the feeling. He tipped his head back, basking in the heat, the tightness, the realization that he missed this.

It was obvious that Wolf was enjoying it too. He was panting into the cool, dark wood, arching his back when Harry brushed against his sweet spot, but when he tried to maneuver his hand to grab between his own legs, Harry snatched it before it could.

"No," he said.

"Yeah right," Wolf grunted, yanking his hand away and trying again.

Harry slid his hand beneath Wolf's gloves and slipped them off. Like another switch, Wolf sucked in a large breath as Harry's bare skin met his own.

Wolf's hands were thicker and marred with scars, but Harry's were larger, if thinner. Their hands curled together and this time Wolf didn't shake it off. In fact, he clutched on to it, offering no resistance as Harry maneuvered his hands.

It was Wolf's craving for touch. The feeling of close contact, skin on skin, that he didn't get from people anymore. Harry didn't know if it was because his new spider-like features drove people away, or if it was because he pushed people away so spectacularly. Whatever it was, just touching him left him like this. So suggestible, so malleable, drunk on Harry's hands. He fused them together with his adhering power, as if terrified Harry might let go.

There was something intimate about it. _Too_ intimate.

It made something deep in Harry's heart ache, like he was bleeding. Bleeding all over the place. His heart pounded, and he felt like he'd stepped inside a volcano, and with a shaky breath he pulled Wolf's hands back so they were instead pinned behind his back. This new position forced Peter to let go of Harry's hands, and he gripped Wolf's wrists instead.

There, that was better. There was distance now, the warmth in Harry's hands wasn't so absolute and the ache alleviated some. It was enough to keep Wolf from moving too, and Harry returned to the mindless fucking he was supposed to be doing. Each noise he punched out of Wolf made his head float higher, the feeling absolutely intoxicating, and when Wolf started panting his name, Harry knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

It took a few more deep thrusts before his hips stuttered and he bent over Wolf with a stifled moan, thrusting one last time and finally spilling inside. He rode out the waves of bliss, letting go of Wolf's wrists to slide his hands up where they bumped into the joints of his spider-legs. He suddenly hated that Wolf still had his shirt on.

When the over-sensitivity started getting to him, Harry pulled out, and Wolf hissed as he did so. Harry grabbed a few tissues nearby and cleaned himself up, and then tucked himself back into his pants. He straightened his shirt and jacket, and traveled to the mirror on the far wall to fix his hair. There was a mark on his neck from Wolf's previous administrations that was definitely going to bruise. Harry scowled realizing that it was high enough to evade the cover of his collar. Purposefully done where anyone could see it.

Liz wouldn't like that.

Behind him, Wolf eased himself up. He didn't bother getting to his feet and instead slid down the desk, and slumped to the floor with his spider legs sprawled around him. He kicked the chair and it rolled away. Through the reflection in the mirror, Harry noticed that he was still hard. He hadn't reached climax. Almost had, but it was not enough to be pushed over the edge.

He forced his eyes away and adjusted his tie.

"Couldn't have held out a little longer," Wolf rumbled, his red eyes almost seemed to glow in the shadows of the room.

Harry cleared his throat, "I said you were here for _my_ pleasure, I said nothing of yours."

"Is that so," Wolf cocked his head, "Nice touch with the hand holding, how very hetero of you."

"You were the one who fused them together."

Wolf shrugged, "What can I say…" and then he had nothing else to say about it. "You know, if this was just a quick fuck, no hand holding, just bending me over a desk and going at it, you might barely be able to come off straight. _Barely._ As straight as a guy can be going down on another guy like that."

"I'm not gay."

"So, you keep saying, but my ass says otherwise. So does my mouth…and my hand…and my dick."

Harry glared at him, "I told you-"

"I know, I know, I'm just here to fill your bodily needs, which we both know is a truck load of shit. You're the one who keeps wanting to lock me up in this tower of yours, so I can't weasel away. But that's a whole other thing," he leaned forward, "I'm fascinated with something else." Judging by his tone, Harry knew he wasn't going to like what came next. "Your dad's been dead for how many years and you're still so far in the closet that the skeletons are pushing you out."

Ice flooded Harry's body and he whirled around, jerking a finger toward him, "Don't."

"Why not? It's not like Stormin' Norman's going to pop out of the shadows to rag on you for getting a blowjob from a man. He's dead, Harry. Dead, double dead, and extra _dead._ You made sure of that, so you'd think you'd slide an inch out of his shadow now that the leash is off. But no, you're just sitting at his grave like a lost puppy-dog, waiting for his master to return."

Furious. Jaw clenched, Harry stormed up to him, but Wolf didn't even flinch. It didn't matter that he was on the floor, pants still shoved to his knees, splinters in his hands; he stared up at Harry with unflinching certainty. Harry was almost jealous.

"You don't get to talk to me that way," he snarled.

Wolf cocked his head, "Why? Everyone else does, they just do it behind your back. Who's gonna treat you seriously when you can't even make a name for yourself outside what dear ol' daddy put on the front door."

Harry took a deep breath through the nose and his face hardened, becoming steady and stone-like. It was an expression he used when talking to board members or addressing the press, an immovable wall built around what he really thought, under construction ever since he was a kid. But there were cracks in the foundation that only Wolf could see, possibly because he was the only one who looked close enough to spot them. Harry may be wearing his "media face" but there was a small furrow between his brows, the faintest twitch in the corner of his lips, the subtle tremor in his hands.

"Don't," he repeated.

Wolf hummed. He got back to his feet and pulled his pants up, putting himself back together piece by piece until the only evidence that they'd done the dirty was the discombobulated desk with its busted edges. He sank back in Harry's chair, propping his feet on the desk, a perfect picture of how he'd been when Harry first walked into the room.

It was almost disappointing that Wolf didn't wince or grimace. Harry hadn't exactly been careful when prepping him, or doing the actual deed - but then again, Wolf could be hiding it. Or, Harry's fucking wasn't even a blip on his radar. Harry's seen footage of Wolf fighting heroes, being thrown through buildings, getting shot, and still coming home walking on both feet.

One of his spider legs slid under the straps of his mask, where it had lain forgotten on the floor, and dropped it in his hands. Instead of putting it on, Wolf stared at it, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the sheen metal.

"I don't believe for a second that you're keeping me around to keep your dick warm when you're tired of being heterosexual, but it is nice to know there's an actual reason you're such a clingy bitch – daddy issues, aside."

Harry's face colored, very displeased with being referred to as " _a clingy bitch,"_ but his brain snagged on to the actual significance of that sentence. " _An actual reason_." When did he say something like that? He raced back through their interactions to figure out what it might've been. It didn't take long to find the culprit.

" _I keep you around because of Peter. Not Wolf Spider – I don't care about him. But you? I know you're in there, and you're_ mine _."_

Ah, that'd be it. Harry studied Wolf's face, but it was unclear if he was bothered by the admission or not. He was impassive, like he didn't have a care in the world for what Harry actually felt or thought. At least, that's what he wanted him to think.

"You mean Peter?" Harry said, and Wolf flinched visibly, a reaction Harry couldn't have gotten even if he'd gone up and slapped him. Wolf didn't like being referred to by his true name. He didn't like hearing about that life, or the people he'd left behind, or how much simpler things had been in a time where everything was tinted with roses.

"I meant what I said. Wolf Spider is nothing but a gross shadow of Peter Parker," Harry said, turning indifferently to straighten his collar once more, before striding towards the door, "You're here because if there's a smidgen of the boy I knew, he's going to be right here, where I can see it. There's no other reason." His hand curled around the doorknob.

"You said I belong to you," Wolf blurted and Harry paused, "And if I belong to you, then you belong to me too, _Har_ ," the nickname sends tingles down Harry's spine, and in that moment, Wolf Spider sounded too much like Peter Parker. Not like he was a tangent from the boy, but like they were stitched with the same thread. Cut from the same cloth. Like they were truly the same person.

Harry didn't have a response to it. It just made him sick to the stomach.

"You can go out there and schmooze up to Liz, or whichever woman of the week it is, but you can't pretend forever Harry. None of them can make you feel how I make you feel, and the next time you try, well…good luck not thinking about me every step of the way."

Harry's breathing stuttered. Did Wolf know about his fumble in the limo? Is that the whole reason for this escapade? Why he pushed Harry's buttons until they were literally rutting against each other? To prove a point? To give Harry a plethora of new images to taunt him next time he tried to get intimate with Liz?

Harry's back was so rigid he couldn't even turn around. He didn't want to. He didn't want to see that pasty skin and those red eyes staring at him from his friend's body. He didn't want to see those damn spider legs growing out of his back like some estranged experiment gone wrong.

He didn't want to see any of it, hating the way it made his heart crack.

So, he walked out of the door and didn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I didn't really have a plan for this series, but while writing this one-shot, it actually sprouted a some-what plot, so any future installments are going to follow a trajectory.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, consider checking out some of my other fics for the USM fandom!


End file.
